Diane Hine (25 July 1956)
I’m an idle cabin sitter
miles above the sea’s hard shell.
Minor CO2 emitter;
metal cell’s soft organelle.
Fresh air’s ducted via compressors,
swirled around and soon expelled.
Vented, vapid breath precesses
over the crinkled ocean swell.
Squillions of salty creatures
live beneath the curved blue plate,
building homes with pleasing features
using calcium carbonate.
Surplus CO2 dissolves to
Wonder if they’re fast evolving
as the levels escalate?
Evanescing contrails drift but
clear exhaust has twice the mass.
My share of the noxious wind’s a
tonne of CO2 waste gas.
Didn’t think I had it in me –
five hour, one tonne fart attack.
I raise my carbonated spritzer –
‘Bottoms up – adapt to that.’
Comments about this poem (Plane Thoughts by Diane Hine )
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